


Soleil et Lune (WAdvent 2020 Day #25)

by gardnerhill



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Moon, Pagan Festivals, Sun God, Watson's Woes WAdvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28310076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: Symbols, allegory, folklore. Christmas is a time for tall tales.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Soleil et Lune (WAdvent 2020 Day #25)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the December 2020 Watson's Woes, for Day 25. Health, warmth, good food and peace to all at Watson's Woes.

Three years of winter.

Thing is, that was so strange and magical that no one who was there even remembers it. Just nod and talk about the long cold days, how spring was cold that year and the next and next, same for summer, and not so much as a crocus. People walked through the days heads down and sad, no sign of the sun all that time. Just the rain and the terrible deadly fogs, and the days when clouds covered all and it wasn't warm nor cold. Then a cold Bonfire Night and back to winter, another winter that never really ended. "The weather," they murmur, being English, and keep walking.

But those of us who see more? We know about the long winter. ('Course, then we get to talking about the Fair Folk and such, and sensible people look at each other with their tongue in cheek and change the subject. So we don't talk about it except among ourselves, those who believe.)

You ask any of us believers about that time, and some of them'll nod knowingly and say it was the death of the Moon that caused it. Moon died killing the Spider, like Arthur and Mordred, and for those three years we lived in winter that never turned into May flowers.

But most of us know. It wasn't the Moon's death that caused the long winter. It was that the Sun loved the Moon so, that when the Moon died the Sun hid their face for grief from us, and went looking in the land of the dead to bring the Moon back.

They're known by other names in other places. But everywhere they pair up the same way – one cold and aloof, one bright and warm – opposites who need each other. You could see it, if you had eyes. Most don't, and that's a mercy. Fine ladies, elegant gentlemen – didn't matter how they looked to us, they were the Moon and the Sun.

They'd moved apart, as the Moon and Sun are wont to do at times. It was during one of those "apart" times, in early spring, that the Spider came to devour the city. The Moon drove the Spider off that time, but the fight was on; when the Sun came back to the Moon the Spider was gone. But the Moon and Sun swore to destroy that Spider to save the world, and set out to hunt that Spider down. Vile man or wicked woman – the Spider was the Spider.

It snowed in early May that year. I remember. Snow, and cold. Maybe that's how we knew the Moon was gone. The Spider was gone and the city was safe; but those two were gone. And that cold weather just kept going.

 _We_ just kept going. Wasn't nothing to do else. Life goes on, the saying goes. So we stayed bundled up, and huddled by the stoves and hearths. We stayed in during the deadly yellow fogs, same as usual, and trudged through the cold rain, and wrapped coats against the winds that blew with no warm breath of spring.

It's funny. When you're going through such a time, it drags and drags and seems to go on forever. But when it's done, you're hard-pressed to remember all but the blur of it. Maybe that's why so many forgot, or never noticed.

But they'll talk about that spring day. Three years of that winter we'd endured, coming on to the end of the third full year, and the clouds parted. And there was the Sun, as warm and joyful as if 'twas never gone. Spring, just like that. We laughed and threw off our coats and soaked in the light and heat, staring as close as we dared to the bright blue sky and glorious light. (Some got so giddy they stripped all the way down and ran in their skin. Couldn't blame them.) The last of the snow melted that very day.

And we saw the reason when that beautiful spring day darkened into a warm gentle night, and the Moon shone full and glorious on the land, painting silver where the Sun had laid gold.

The Sun had found where the Moon had gone, and brought both of them back. Not dead after all. Just in hiding after defeating the Spider, waiting till their wounds were healed. Oh, they were that overjoyed to see each other they embraced, and in that faraway place people wondered to see a full eclipse.

They came back, together. That's how they've stayed ever since. Oh they still part and reunite as they did before – skies would be dull if they never changed. But they've never left us.

We remember, we few. When the weather changes for the worse, gets cold and dreary, we mourn the Moon and pity the grief-stricken Sun hiding their face from us. When it's darkest and coldest we build up the fires hot and bright, remembering the Sun and reminding ourselves that they will return. And when the crocuses push out of the snow and the eaves drip and the air warms, we know the Moon is back, and like the Sun we rejoice.


End file.
